You Won't Break Me
by Eady of Old
Summary: He gazed across the bed at his wife's face, relaxed and innocent in slumber. In these moments, she looked as young and untouched by life as the first day they'd met. Rated M


**You Won't Break Me**

**Summary:** He gazed across the bed at his wife's face, relaxed and innocent in slumber. In these moments, she looked as young and untouched by life as the first day they'd met.

**Rating:** M for adult situations. Govern yourselves accordingly.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Downton Abbey and make no claim to the specific settings or characters.

**A/N: This is my first M-rated DA story and it takes place about a month after Bates is released from prison. It has some angst, I will admit (and I promise to write something fluffy soon). The concept is a bit cliché, but I hope folks will enjoy it anyway. These sort of stories are a bit nerve-wracking to post, not unlike those dreams where you accidentally show up to school naked. **

**Reviews are much appreciated, as always.**

* * *

She slept so peacefully.

If John could spend a lifetime doing nothing but watching the steady rise and fall of her chest and listen to the soft sounds of her breathing, he would count himself lucky. While sometimes her sleep was plagued with frightening images - usually of him in prison - thankfully, no nightmares had disturbed her dreams on this night and she had not woken as the morning sun streamed through their bedroom window.

He gazed across the bed at his wife's face, relaxed and innocent in slumber. In these moments, she looked as young and untouched by life as the first day they'd met. Too often during the day he could see the years of heartache reflected back at him in her eyes. But for now at least, she was back to being Anna Smith, the beautiful young head housemaid at Downton.

Alas, she did not stay asleep for long. As though woken by his eyes on her, Anna began to stir. She stretched out her limbs and groaned slightly as her arms stretched out before relaxing once more. John knew she was fighting to retain these last few minutes of unconsciousness, her body trying to keep her at rest while her mind reminded her of the day's obligations.

In the end, her mind won out and she blinked her eyes open lazily. At the sight of him looking at her, she smiled.

"I had a feeling you were watching me."

Her voice still sounded light and sweet, even rough from disuse during the night, like dark honey instead of the usual sugar.

"I enjoy watching you sleep."

"Drooling into my pillow?" she teased.

"Everything you do is amazing," John confided. "Even the drooling."

"Silly beggar," she groused.

But he continued looking at her in adoration, and blushing, she looked away. Somehow, even after almost two years of marriage and over a month of actually living together as man and wife, everything she did was still incredible to him. At first he attributed it to the rose-colored lenses of love which blinded so many men before him. But as each day went by, he realized how lucky of a man he truly was.

Having been married before, John had a frame of reference for his relationship with Anna. Whereas Vera had been fiery at first and vexatious after time, Anna continued to remind him of an afternoon breeze – cool and refreshing on a warm summer day, bearing the mild scent of gilly flowers. And his wife still inspired in him a burning passion, but unlike the desires of youth, he wanted Anna wholly – body and heart.

"Won't you be late?" she asked, concern showing on her face.

"His Lordship is not due back until this afternoon, so I have the morning," John told her. He reached out a hand to touch her face, reveling in the softness of her skin.

"And I'm not expected in until luncheon. You should have waken me sooner," Anna said, smiling temptingly. "I'd hate to waste a morning with you sleeping."

"But you love sleeping in."

"I love you more."

His breath caught in his throat at her words. He still could not quite come to terms that this beautiful young woman loved him – like a woman loves a man, she truly loved him. Every day, he tried to think of new ways to be worthy of her, to give her some portion of the happiness she imparted to him simply by being her, by being his wife. And yet, everything paled in comparison to her loving tenderness.

"What can I do for you today?" he asked.

Anna closed her eyes and moved closer to him. "Mmm… just lay with me for a while," she requested.

John pulled her against him, enveloping her with his arms as he hugged her small frame. Her arms covered his, her fingers brushing across his dark hair, causing him to take in a shuddering breath. And suddenly, his desire for her reared up within. She always did this to him – a word, a look, a touch, and he was a lost man.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, wishing his words were more poetic, more worthy of the brilliance of the woman in his arms. But he knew that sometimes actions spoke louder than words. John followed up his declaration by letting one hand drift down her belly and lower. His fingers massaged her through her nightgown, and Anna arched against him with a sharp intake of breath.

Her pert body brought him even more to attention, and John could tell the moment she felt him against her. She deliberately ground against him, making a noise of appreciation in the back of her throat. He rewarded the beautiful sound by touching her deeper, harder, using his palm to increase the pressure even as his other hand pulled up her night shirt.

"Do you know what you do to me?" he asked, finding his way into her undergarment. She answered with a whimper, and he touched her center. Unconsciously, she bucked against him, but he held her firmly in place with one hand on her hip as his other continued to work against her. Keeping pressure where he knew she needed it, he slid one finger inside her, finding her wet and welcoming.

He breathed out a ragged breath as Anna's body clenched around him tightly and slowly, with great care, he slipped in a second finger, letting her grow accustomed to the breadth even as his palm made slow circles against her core. He felt her pushing back against his hand, trying to increase the pressure, and he gladly pressed harder.

Her sigh sounded more like a strangled cry as his palm moved faster and firmer, his fingers curling inward so that his entire hand encircled her center of pleasure. "Oh, please," she begged a moment before he felt her clench tightly, her entire body stiffening as she reached the height of ecstasy.

John eased her down from the climax, making slow circles with his hand to draw out her enjoyment even as the fingers within her went still and slowly eased their way out.

Anna's reaction to his touch left him desperately hard with his need for her, and he knew she could feel him pressing against her. But John waited, not daring to ask for more than the press of their bodies.

How many nights had he lain awake, dreaming of her? How many times had he promised himself that if given the opportunity to be with her, that he would see to her pleasure without regard for himself?

The need was almost unbearable, but he ignored the desire in favor of the simple joy of holding her so intimately against him, warm and undone by his ministrations. Cupping one of her small breasts through her night gown in the palm of his hand, he watched her arch her head back, exposing her long, creamy white neck which just begged to be kissed.

"Make love to me," Anna said as he bent his head to nibble at that pale skin, teasing it with his tongue.

"I am," he responded briefly before returning to the feast he'd found for himself.

"No, I want _you_," she answered insistently, shifting so that she could face him. John hesitated, momentarily distracted by the length of her leg sliding between his, up and up until she found the undeniable symbol of his desire for her.

"We don't have to…" he began, not wanting to pressure her.

They had shared this particular intimacy only a handful of times since he'd been released from prison, and each time, he felt like a brute as he pushed his way into her. John was not a small man and the first time had hurt her, even though she brushed it aside. Anna was so small, her body so tiny, that he had to give her time to grow used to him each time they were together. He found the waiting to be almost maddening, but each time they were together, he refused to move until he believed she was ready, and even then, he worried about losing control.

Her tight channel felt like heaven on earth, and every second in her embrace was a reaffirmation of the knowledge John reminded himself of daily – he did not deserve her. But as much as he tried to focus entirely on bringing her to pleasure, he lost himself in the bliss of her heat.

He had not hurt her since that first time – not yet, at least, and not that she'd revealed. But John knew it was only a matter of time. If he did not control himself, if he let go for even an instant, he could cause her pain. It worried him to the point of putting off such intimacy when he deemed it necessary, of using only his hands and mouth to bring her pleasure, of denying his own. Because as much as he wanted her – oh, how he wanted her! – he could not risk hurting her.

"I want to feel you inside me," Anna said, and he nearly wept from the pleading in her voice. If only she knew how difficult this was for him, keeping such a tight hold on his desire. She might fear him if she knew of the animalistic passion burning deep within.

"Let me go slow," he bargained, quickly pulling off his own clothing as she shrugged her nightgown the rest of the way off.

"You can go fast."

He swallowed at her offer, fighting against the urge to give in to her. It would be so easy, to lose himself…

She spoke again, confident. "You won't hurt me."

"No, I won't hurt you," he affirmed, a challenge to her request.

John refused to do anything that might cause her pain, even if his desire for her drove him to the point of insanity. He would keep his movements measured, his touch gentle, no matter how frenzied his body felt.

He made love to her just so – letting the stirring in him build slowly, like a tidal wave. Even as she tugged at him, urging him to increase the pace or the depth, he refused, keeping a careful hold on his control. Arms shaking as much from resisting her efforts as holding his weight poised above her, he stopped.

"You are such a temptress," he growled.

"You won't hurt me," Anna assured him again. "Please, let me feel all of you."

Her blue eyes shone bright and innocent, but in their depths he saw the open invitation. She wanted him to find his pleasure in her without restraint, to move fast and hard for as long as necessary. He could see in her the acceptance of his desire and the eagerness to meet him as an equal in that endeavor.

John did not see fear in his wife's eyes, not like he'd feared would be reflected back at him. He felt certain that if he ever saw such an emotion from Anna, he would die from it. He could not bear to be the one to inspire such horror in his beautiful wife.

Sighing heavily, he relaxed himself against her, letting her frame take more of his weight. The ache in his knee instantly lessened.

"Tell me to stop if I cause you pain," John ordered her.

Anna nodded an affirmance, but did not have time to speak before he pushed against her, hard. She took all of him then, and this time, he did not pause. He rocked into her with deliberate movements, pulling out only to push back again. She gasped as the force of each thrust must have pressed the breath from her lungs, but he did not let up.

Her body felt heavenly, and even more than that, she felt deliciously sinful. For a time he lost himself in the heady scent of her surrounding him, of the flaming heat of her enveloping his raging desire. And through the tunnel of pleasure and sweet, sweet need, he felt the edges of a nearing light. Pushing on, he chased that light, thrusting again and again until he caught up with it and with explosive force, it filled all his senses.

A few moments later, John came back to himself. Anna lay beneath him, spent from their activities, her body still clenching around him. He realized belatedly that she must have hit climax once more with him, but he'd barely noticed through his own. Her skin was flushed, a thin sheen of sweat having gathered across her brow, slicking back the wisps of blonde hair at her temples. And she stared at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded slowly, lazily, which in no way dispelled his worries. Gently, he pulled out of her, freeing her body from his own. She made no move to stop him, but she did not shy away from his touch as he pulled her into his arms once more. In fact, as she slowly came back to herself, Anna snaked her own arms through his, reinforcing his hold on her.

But just as John began to relax and feel relief and joy at their joining – he felt the gentle shaking of her body. His heart clenched in his chest as he pushed himself up on one arm to look down at her expression. Tears were streaming down her face in twin trails as she gave in to silent sobs.

"Anna, my God-" he began, horrified.

"No, don't," she said as he tried to remove his arms from around her. She held onto him tightly, even as her emotions flowed freely.

He realized in a moment that he'd done the unthinkable. He'd hurt her.

John gasped, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," paying no heed to the rapid shake of her head.

"No, don't apologize-"

"But I'm so sorry…"

The world was falling away from him. He'd done it. Despite all his resolve and the will to maintain his self control, he'd given in and he'd… he'd hurt her. He'd hurt Anna.

John indulged in little vanity. He knew he was not a handsome man, nor was his body particularly gratifying to look on. His personal choices in life guaranteed that he had little enough to offer Anna as a husband, but one thing he'd always promised himself was to keep her safe and loved. To think that he'd violated that sacred trust, for his own greedy self-gratification…

He wished the earth would swallow him up and deposit him straight into hell.

"You don't understand," Anna was saying, struggling to find her voice through the emotions raging in her.

"I hurt you," he said. What else was there to understand?

"It wasn't like that," she assured him, her face breaking into a reassuring smile. "It was just so intense, so incredibly… primal. I didn't know it could be that way."

Hesitating at her words, John searched her face for signs of falsehood, in case she might be lying to save his feelings. Anna would do such a thing – deny her own pain to spare him.

"You're crying," John observed, his eyes riveted to the tears on her face.

"I'm sorry," she said, pressing her cheek against his chest. He could feel the warm wetness as it met with his skin. "I don't know why I'm crying. You didn't cause me pain. Far from it, but it was just so… I don't know how to describe it. I was overwhelmed."

John screwed his eyes shut, his heart reaching out for the hope that Anna spoke truly, that he had not caused her pain during their lovemaking. Because if he'd hurt her, if being with her proved this much of a risk…

"I've never felt that deeply before," Anna went on. "It was like we were the only two people, alone in the world, and for a while, we were just one person. I was you and you were me and afterwards, the sense of loss of that… it just hit me so hard."

She let out one last, tiny gasp to demonstrate her disappointment.

"Are you certain I didn't hurt you?" John asked.

"Yes, I'm certain," she told him, her eyes shining happiness. "What I felt was definitely not pain. It was... amazing, really. You were amazing."

She pulled away from him enough for him to see her bright smile, so genuinely warm. But seeing the concern in his expression, her smile dropped.

"What is it?" she asked, confused.

"I thought I'd harmed you," John admitted. "And the one thing I never want to do is cause you pain. Not in this."

He touched his hand to her body, cupping her breast as his thumb gently circled the dusty pink of her nipple. Anna sighed at the sensation but refused to be distracted.

"Is that why you deny yourself this? Because you think you'll hurt me?"

The way she spoke the words, she sounded genuinely flabbergasted by the concept of his self-restraint. John realized that she'd likely been brought up under the notion that it was a wife's duty to submit to her husband in the bedroom, and that if she were very lucky, the man she chose to marry would not deliberately hurt or humiliate her. Anna likely did not understand why he hesitated to be with her in such a manner, why he would forgo intimacy rather than risk harm to her body.

"Any pleasure I might feel at your expense is not pleasure," John said, teeth grinding. "It is poison. Believe me on this. It is not worth it to me."

He'd spent too many nights with Vera with each of them trying to hurt the other as much as give the other release. Part of him worried that he might slip back into that old habit of taking rather than giving without regard for the woman he was with. Sobriety helped, as did the genuine love he felt for Anna.

"I would give you any pleasure. You're my husband-"

"I am your husband," he interrupted her. "And it is for me to honor you, not to take from you."

Anna appealed to him, "But I give it freely. Your pleasure is my pleasure. I want to love you…"

His emotions flaring, he said sharply, "It is not love to cause you pain. It is selfish and horrible and the mark of a terrible husband."

"You are not a terrible husband. You are an incredible husband and a considerate lover. The only time it has ever hurt was that first time, and that was expected. But even if it did hurt a little, even if something happened..." She paused, biting her bottom lip. "I love you, John. I won't deny you."

She loved him past pain, he realized with aching clarity. He should have seen it before, should have realized after all the heartache she'd endured for him, first with the attempt to divorce Vera and then during the months he'd spent in prison. She would endure pain if it meant she could give him pleasure, and she would do it gladly, without prompting or request.

He didn't deserve her. And he didn't deserve the complete trust he saw in her eyes.

"Swear to me you'll stop me if I ever hurt you," he demanded.

"You've never-"

"Anna, promise me. If I ever hurt you, whatever I'm doing, make me stop. Push me away, hit me, whatever you have to do."

With her eyes locked with his, Anna could see fresh tears beginning to form in those endless blue seas. "You have never hurt me, John Bates, and I won't let you keep beating yourself up over something you've never done. How many nights have you refused to be this free with me, out of fear of hurting me? How many nights have we been denied this pleasure?"

He'd deny himself every night for the rest of his life if it meant sparing Anna. She could see the answer in his face.

"I'll promise," she said finally. "But I want a promise in return."

He swallowed tightly.

"Tell me."

"I want you to promise to be with me this way when we are together, open and honest. I've never felt so good, having all of you, without restraint, and I know you felt the same. This isn't wrong, John, none of it. You deserve to find happiness in my arms. And I deserve the chance to give it to you."

To demonstrate her point, she tugged at his body and shifted herself, positioning them both so that she lay on her back with him on top of her, part of his weight born on his good side but with the rest on her. He frowned as he realized how much of his body she now bore on her own, but she resisted his attempts to move off of her.

"I'll crush you," he protested.

"You won't. And I like the weight of you," Anna confided. "You won't break me, John."

Not purposely, he knew, but in the heat of passion, he did worry. He'd once caused Vera pain without meaning to, and she'd punished him with claws raked across his skin and bite marks on his shoulder, the sort of wounds born of lustful indulgence when pleasure and pain met but tipped too far to one side. That night began a round of back and forth between them, when the alcohol turned desire into anger and back again in the blink of an eye. Vera gave as good as she got, but he'd done things to her, things he still looked on with shame.

John wanted Anna to only know the good, to profit from his age and experience. He could at least give her that, the benefit of marrying an older man with – he hoped – better self-control.

But she'd spoken in earnest, her feelings as bare to him as her naked body. The strength of her love humbled him, not in the need to sacrifice for her, but in her need for him to accept what she offered. And she offered so much, more than he'd ever dreamed any woman might offer him, let alone _this _woman. This perfect, incredible woman.

"You have my word," he said, harkening back to her earlier promise request. "I won't treat you as fragile, as long as you don't let me come close to breaking you."

He leaned down to kiss her lips, and she kissed him back with just as much fervor. He felt the familiar sensation of his body beginning to stir again, and once more he marveled at the hold she had over him. With her, he was like a young man once more, all hot blood and aching desire. All for her.

"I love you," John told her, refocusing himself on giving her pleasure.

And he made love to his wife once more.

_fin_


End file.
